One Stone
by scratchedlines
Summary: Mordecai's adventures with Bloodwing. (I've decided to reopen this with multiple chapters)
1. Swamp

Artemis was long gone, no longer occupying the hunter's thoughts as he sought his glory elsewhere. He sought planet after planet, trying to find something that would replace his loss, to find "what the universe owed him", as he so aptly put it. But one location after the next offered very little in the way of a challenge. Either too easy and or the men too ill-prepared, nothing seemed to satiate his need to overcome the tasks placed before him. Until he heard of Agrius: a grueling, ten-day venture, where the participants were forced to live in the wild and get from point A to point B, a roughly 70-mile distance to cover. That seemed like a piece of cake until curiousity got the better of him.

Throughout the Echonet were images sprinkled of Agrius' terrain. Harsh, steep cliffs, rocky, barren wastelands, choking swamps that claimed even the wildlife on a whim, and sinking sands that were home to things the people didn't even have a name for. Mainly because no one had ever lived long enough to describe what they looked like.

What could be more perfect? Granted it wasn't a shooting competition, but with his meager need to eat, his rations could last much longer than the average man. It was obviously a test of endurance that he could likely come away from unscathed. Not to mention the $200,000 pot looked pretty sweet, too.

It was day four of his journey through said swamps, taking care to maintain his footing along the high branches of the grey, twisted trees. The green muck below didn't look at all inviting, and stunk of something that had long since died and soaked the air with its stench. So good so far… until a screech overhead paused his reach for the next limb. A silhouette of something small and feathery peered down at him with piercing red eyes, backlit by the noon day sun. Just a bird, he told himself, shaking his head at his apprehension as he crossed that gap to the other side. But one screech turned into two, then three… dozens. What he had believed to be a shady canopy of leaves was nothing more than more of those birds.

And he was invading their home.

One by one, they alighted from their perches, making the most horrible din as they started to divebomb his head. They were trying their best to get rid of the offending creature by any means possible, using their beaks and talons to send him in another direction. But Mordecai wasn't so happy to oblige them; for one thing, this was the safest path in the direction to the other side, and going around was going to add two more days to his journey. It was through here or nothing at all.

The birds, of course, had no problem with the latter option.

As he swatted at them, thankful for the goggles that kept his eyes safe, one such creature dove right into the middle of his chest, knocking him off-balance to the sick green ooze below. But it was not to be so lucky, as the hunter snatched it out of the air in an effort to grab onto something and stop his fall. One Truxican swear followed the muffled yell of the bird as they both plunged to their doom.

It was less of a splash and more of a wet, hard squelch when Mordecai hit the surface, aloft for a micro-second before he started to sink. The bird itself was already soaked with ooze, its wings flapping about in an attempt to get free of the muck and take to the air again. With its feathers coated, however, it would have no such chance of rejoining its flock mates. The hunter rolled himself onto a nearby dead log, shaking the pond scum and thick tendrils of weeds from off his arms. He should have left it behind to die, as revenge for what it had done. Yet, he couldn't bear to leave it; its sickening cries as it struggled to stay afloat were more than enough to make him cringe, an obvious runt of the litter from its size. Undone from his back, he held out the leather scabbard of his blade for the bird to climb upon and settled it on the log beside him. The tiny thing looks absolutely miffed and exhausted, but made no move to get away, it's tiny chest fluttering so fast, it was barely perceptible.

"Maybe ya won't think about fuckin' with me next time, _mierda de pollo_." The words were spat out as he undid his vest to start wiping the gunk of the small bird, chuckling at its tenacity.


	2. Sand

The trouble the bird had caused had set him back another six hours with the difficulty of finding his way to the tops of the trees again. It stunk with more than just the scum of the swamp - a feral, earthy smell - made even worse so by the fact that it was right under his nose, held tightly against his chest with a fashioned sling from his belt and a spare pouch. His first thought was to leave it on the nearest branch and continue on his way, but he knew the rest of the flock would repeat their actions, and he couldn't take much of that bombardment again. Instead, if the others saw (and smelled) the bird he held "prisoner", they might choose to leave him alone instead of trying to attack one of their own. It was a risk he was willing to take, if it allowed him to make up for loss time.

Thankfully, his predictions were correct. Hopping from limb to limb didn't draw any attention from the other creatures, until he finally came out the other side, free from the stink and humidity of the swamp. With most of the worse behind him, he could pick up the pace and try to regain the time he'd lost. Perhaps if he found a shortcut...

And be accused of cheating again.

He sighed heavily once his feet met dirt, and he was off again to the next marker along the path. So focused was he on the end goal that he'd completely forgotten about the bird he still had. That was soon remedied when it started screeching its fool head off. The sound almost made him land face first into the slipper sand beneath his feet, and he had to undo the vest of his to wrestle the thing out. He was tempted to spike it against the ground and be rid of it, but the red-eyed stare told him otherwise. He'd taken it from its home, after all, away from familiarity territory. Just like he was.

"Don't tell me you're fuckin' hungry. All I gots jerky, and you ain't gonna like that shit." It screamed in his face in response, the sparse long feathers around its neck standing up on end.

"Alright, alright, _fuck_!" He managed to balance the leather-necked avian against the crook of his elbow as he dug around in his pack and tore off a piece. He didn't care if the bird refused or not, at least he'd tried to get it to shut up. And he certainly didn't have time to sit still, looking for bugs to satisfy its appetite.

Surprisingly enough, it took to it quite quickly, snatching and swallowing the piece in one gulp. Instead of another screech, it made a more polite sound, possibly asking for more. Now that it knew he had food, it had no reason to start making a ruckus.

"Well, least we gotta way t'shut that beak o'yours." He tore off a few more handfuls as he jogged onwards, pressing it to the bird's beak every now and again. True, he had plenty of supplies that he could stretch longer than he needed to, but that didn't mean that he should throw it all away for some bird.

Once it had had its fill, it wriggled free and took off. Mordecai was a little glad that the thing hadn't been injured to the point that it couldn't fly. He'd expected it would have head back towards the home he had taken it from, but it didn't. Instead, it made grand, swooping circles that followed the path he was taking. He told himself that it would get bored eventually and find something else to amuse itself with.

The beacon was just up ahead, and it bonged dully when he passed it, the small device clipped to his hip registering his entry into the new area. This part, he'd heard, was supposed to be the most dangerous, though he couldn't see why. It was a sea of sand, with nothing more than a few rocky cliffs in the distance for him to traverse. Nothing too difficult. He slowed down his pace, knowing that if he continued at such a speed, the sun would sap more of his energy and leave him weary. Better to go at a steady pace than to keep stopping and going.

A shrill cry overhead shook him from his concentration, and he stopped to throw a few middle fingers at it.

"Wouldja fuck off already?! I don't need-!"

His swearing was cut short where the ground a few feet in front of him rippled and then exploded in a shower of sand. A long cylinder of twisted, rocky flesh appeared, with row after row of teeth filling a circular mouth gnashed together in hunger. If he hadn't stopped to swear at the bird, he might have been halfway down to its belly by now. He dropped on his ass in surprise, digging his heels into the sand to get away. Thankfully, the thing had no eyes to see him with, so it was easy to escape. But that didn't mean that getting across this sand would be any easier.

But with a bird at his side...

He brushed off his rear, got to his feet, and took off around the creature, glancing up at his escort every now and again. He listened out for that shrill cry, and when he heard it, he stopped in his tracks. Another of the creatures popped out of the ground, flailing in an attempt to catch anything nearby. Its efforts were fruitless, however, and it groaned in disappointment at the empty air that met its teeth. This pattern continued for more than two hours, which was a lot less time it would have taken to book it across the sand unbidden, but it was better to keep his body in one piece than to be eaten. once he got to the rocky area, he kissed the hard ground and rolled onto his back, glad that that was over with. Up above circled the silhouette of his guide, the smattered growth of feathers giving it an awkward appearance. But he wasn't about to insult the one thing that had kept him alive.

"_Gracias_, _amigo_." He gave a two-fingered salute up at the bird as he caught his breath. In response, there was a small splatter of something wet next to his side.

"... you li'l shit."


End file.
